“I’m following that snake from the FBI,” Ciara said.

“Which one?”

“Moore, of course.”

“Don’t you think he’ll spot you?”

“Doesn’t matter if he does. When I stepped out into the hall, I heard him taking down directions. Something about one of the fugitives giving himself up.”

“My God-” He motioned to Nelson and Hogan, who were about to leave the room. “Where is Agent Moore going?”

“Third and Pine Avenue in Long Beach. I might as well have stayed at home-it’s just a few miles from where I live.”

“So it is Long Beach. We won’t have any jurisdiction there. Hell, I guess all we can do is sit back and watch. You have any idea which fugitive it is?”

“No, didn’t catch any names. I’ll keep you posted, though. I’m hanging up now-I want to make sure there aren’t any last-minute changes in plans.”

Alex told Hogan and Nelson about Ciara’s pursuit of Moore.

“I’d better give the sheriff a call,” Nelson said. “And although they probably heard about this before we did, let’s make sure the Long Beach PD knows about this. Alex, maybe you should go down there, too. If the FBI will let us talk to him, at least we can find out what the lure has been for getting them to California.”

“Both Taggert and Sloan are Californians, both from the L.A. area. May have been here already. In fact-I was going to pursue this earlier, but we’ve had so many scenes to process-let me get to my desk. I’ve got some files there on Taggert and Sloan.”

They followed him out. Along the way, they were stopped by Nelson’s assistant, who said Sheriff Dwyer was calling. The captain left them to take the call.

“So what is it you’re after?” Hogan asked Alex.

“The lawyers. Both Sloan and Taggert have adult criminal records in California. Taggert had a couple of cocaine possession charges. Sloan had a murder conviction before he escaped from prison.”

“He’s the last of that gang that escaped from Lompoc?”

“Yes. There were four of them-Sloan was the leader. They became trusties, learned the routine for outside deliveries, murdered two guards and a truck driver, and escaped. Three were quickly recaptured, but Sloan managed to slip through the net.”

“This is the one with the wife, right?”

“Right. The FBI thinks his wife helped him-she was one of those women who think of a murder trial as a singles bar-sigh over a defendant and start writing love letters to him. The Sloans were married in prison.”

“Since she’s no longer breathing, I guess they needed the old Graybar Hotel for their love nest. Why do these women do it?”

Alex smiled as he looked through the files on his desk. “Because nice guys are so boring.” He found Sloan’s and Taggert’s files. He started with Taggert’s. “Here-I knew I had this somewhere. Taggert used high-priced attorneys-his sister usually posted bail for him, and I imagine she paid the bill for these guys, too.”

He then opened Sloan’s file. “Sloan had a lawyer in Pasadena, but recently hired a new one to handle appeals work-Yes! He’s in Long Beach.”

He picked up the phone and called his partner. “Ciara-Sloan’s lawyer is Desmond Wrait. He’s got offices at One-thirty-three Pine Avenue in Long Beach. Suite six-fifty-six. That may be where Moore is headed.”

“Are you sure about that address? It’s not-”

“The one Moore gave. So watch for a sudden change of direction.”

Everett Corey watched on television as the police in Long Beach did their best to cope with the sudden arrival of a convoy of television trucks and vans, as well as a rapidly increasing number of FBI agents.

He was a little sorry not to be there, but Cameron would handle this perfectly, he knew. He smiled. Cameron was such a funny one-so cold with adults, so protective of children. If it had been up to Everett, they would have stripped both of their prisoners after drugging them, to humiliate them and to make escape less likely-not that it was likely now. But Cameron would not allow it-this is exactly what Cameron’s father used to do to him, so that Cameron would come awake bound with wire and naked before the other abuses began.

Cameron was unhappy about including children in their plans. It had taken a lot of convincing, all Everett’s skills as a manipulator, to get Cameron to see that this was exactly the pressure they needed to bring to bear on Kit Logan and Alex Brandon.

Everett was pleased that they had managed to capture both hostages. They had been forced to bring their friend in on the action, something Cameron had also objected to, but Cameron was mistrustful by nature. Cameron could hardly object to the outcome-it had worked perfectly.

Everett had considered killing both prisoners while Cameron was gone. He recognized this impulse for what it was-at times, Everett felt a temptation to test Cameron, to see how attached Cameron truly was to him. If Everett did the worst thing imaginable, in Cameron’s eyes, would Cameron break away from him? Cameron had a certain dependency on him, but he was something like a pet wolf. Everett would never deceive himself into believing that he had totally tamed Cameron.

Perhaps, he thought, that was why Cameron was alive, and Freddy and Morgan were dead. Neither could have ever presented the challenge Cameron would always be.

He was so absorbed in these thoughts, he nearly missed all the action on television. He knew in advance how most of it would play out, of course.

Of all the fugitives, only Wesley Macon Sloan had been harder to track down than Gabe Taggert. Not long after Sloan had made the FBI list, Everett had contacted Desmond Wrait. Law enforcement officials had already been in touch with him, of course, but although they knew that Wrait would be obliged to encourage his client to surrender, they really couldn’t ask much more of Sloan’s attorney.

Unlike Everett, they couldn’t offer large sums of money, placed in an offshore account, available to Wrait if he would do nothing more than follow a few simple instructions. Instructions that would not in any way leave Wrait vulnerable to charges of any kind-which would, in all probability, enhance his public image. All this, in addition to relieving him of a client who might not treat his lawyer any better than he had treated his wife.

Really, Everett thought, inflation might have upped the price from forty pieces of silver, but there was no shortage of Judases.

Everett was not a fan of the media, but he enjoyed watching the events unfolding now. Security was at its highest near Pine and Third in Long Beach, where the FBI and most of the media expected Wrait to appear. A few sharper reporters kept an eye on Wrait’s offices. But only one television crew-for Channel Three, the station he was watching now-were nearer Long Beach Boulevard and Broadway. Diana Ontora had received a call from Wrait’s secretary, tipping her off to the fact that the first glance anyone might get of the fugitive would be in an alley near that corner, where Sloan would be smuggled out of a nearby building and into a waiting car.

“This is Diana Ontora of Channel Three, bringing you exclusive coverage of Wesley Macon Sloan’s surrender to federal agents…”

• • •

Above the alley, several windows were open on the higher floors of the building just opposite the one Desmond Wrait was leaving now. Wrait talked for a moment with Ontora, then motioned to his client to come out.

Sloan, the most ordinary-looking of men, glanced up nervously at those open windows.

Cameron sighted Wesley Macon Sloan’s left eye through the rifle’s scope and fired.

Now, he thought, your appearance is remarkable.

The Ontora woman was screaming. Cameron quickly fired a couple of shots over the heads of the lawyer and the reporter. That got them to stop looking up. He picked up the shell casings, concealed the weapon under the floorboards, and left. The purchase of the building had been well worth it, he thought. Perhaps someone might someday trace its ownership through several corporations to Everett and Cameron, but he doubted it would lead anyone to suspect him as the sniper.